


in defense of self

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Caffeine Dependence, Coping, Gen, Guilt, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Protests, Self-Advocacy, Self-Worth, Work/Life Balance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: A Dani-centric fic wherein she struggles with understanding what aspects of work aren't sitting well and broaches talking about it with Gil.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 14





	in defense of self

_Buzz, buzz_. The cacophonous screech of the department ringtone that Dani kept because it wakes her up every time. She clears the fuzz of curls from her eyes and looks at the far too bright display, green melding with darkness.

3AM.

"Murder. 127th and 5th.” Gil. A far ways out in Queens. Must be something special to call them in. As if any murder is any less so.

She can't say she just got to sleep. Can't say she's not up for it. Can't leave JT and Bright to go figure it out, chattering on about where her ass is while she's curled up in bed.

Can't is a falsehood. A deception of self because she lacks the courage to open up, to share she's less than in a world that demands more than all the time. A defense mechanism so there isn't extra scrutiny on her life, eyes ready to pounce and pick at her down to the bone.

She's tired. She can't say that either because everyone is. Well, won't. Won't say she won't come in because she's exhausted and doesn't have it in her to do it today at 3AM.

"Powell?" Gil draws her attention again.

"On my way."

Today isn't the day to unleash her inner lion and fight to stay home. At least not today at 3AM.

* * *

The whole scene is within view from where Dani stands beside the police tape, the alleyway before her like a grand staircase leading to the spectacle of a corpse. It’s easier to get an overall idea of positioning from her vantage point, seeing what passersby may have been able to glimpse from the street. She pops another mint and crunches it between her teeth, a second following.

"You gonna give me some of those, too, or keep hogging them for yourself?" JT asks.

Dani looks up at him. Cracks the small Altoid tin and holds it out for him to take a few. Pockets it again.

"Late night?" Small talk's not really his thing, but he's going there apparently.

No, not really. Maybe? One, one-thirty? That's late-ish. Dani shrugs.

"I had just gotten the baby back to sleep. Call woke them up again." JT covers a yawn by scratching his beard.

"Newborns — can't recommend them," she jokes.

Bright bounces around the scene, chattering Gil's ear off, exchanging thoughts with Edrisa and the two of them firing their theories at Gil. He's a pinball in the narrow alleyway, kept in play by Gil blocking the other exit to the street.

"There's no way he slept," JT comments. There’s a whiplash difference between JT’s composure and Bright’s energy.

"Does he ever?"

"Tally says he'd be perfect for a night of babysitting. I think disaster."

"There's not really an in between."

"How about you?" JT looks to her.

"No way, man."

"Everything's fine until it isn't." And as his gaze lingers, it suddenly seems JT's not talking about babysitting any longer.

"I'm gonna save Gil." She pushes away with an eyeroll and leaves JT behind.

* * *

8AM looks just like 3AM but with more sunlight to distort the picture. Photographs of the deceased line the table, the whiteboard. The living occupy the seats, vacancies pocking the upper decks.

Gil deposits two handfuls of coffees onto the conference room table, the precariously balanced handles carefully making the transition. Bright jumps for his. Dani passes one over to JT and takes one for herself.

It's bitter even though it came straight out of the pot. Probably needs a go with vinegar. It has caffeine, so it doesn't matter. The only drug she takes anymore. Doesn't even mess with over the counter if she can help it.

Bright jitters around the room, covering the whole case without any of them saying a peep. The elusive _I_ in team.

"Bright, hold up a second," Gil interjects.

"My bet was on ten minutes, you coulda let him go one more," JT teases.

Bright looks at all of them, the corners of his mouth drooping as his gears slip and grind to a halt. "Oh, sorry."

The problem with interrupting his flow is then she needs to be ready, operating on all cylinders. No vacancies, no vacancies — she opens her mouth and the engine turns over. An exchange she and JT are accustomed to, Bright adding accompanying details. A rhythm that's more harmony than discordance, orchestrated by their Lieutenant.

Legwork. Research. A set of tasks for each of them and a plan to regroup. Routine that keeps them busy for hours, little time for thinking about anything else.

Distraction. Necessity. Truth somewhere in between.

1PM has more caffeine and research. 3PM more caffeine and legwork. 5PM the same old same old same old over and over again, more questions than answers and no one in custody. A full fifteen hours after they first got called in, Gil sends them home. "Get some sleep — we'll pick up tomorrow."

There's a spot on the wall that looks like a fly that dips and shifts in the stray streetlight and if she squints it could be an ant but she can't it can't she can't —

Sleep doesn't come. 8PM. 9PM. Rounds of YouTube and Netflix. Hip-Hop Evolution for background noise, tracks she'd heard from her parents, muted in favor of her own, _better_ rhythms.

Inaccurate. A half truth. Her dad. She has her badge because of him. Because her hard work. Because of him. Because she hasn't fucked up enough to lose it yet. Because she did, but Gil fixed it.

At midnight, staring at her ceiling, she has her badge because she wants it.

She pops out of bed, pulls on leggings, trades her t-shirt for a sports bra, tank, and a sweatshirt, slips into sneakers, and heads out the door. Street medicine. Pounding concrete until sweat bleeds from every pore, making space for sleep to come in.

 _Buzz, buzz._ The most obnoxious ringtone that means she needs to cut straight for her apartment. Her badge awaits.

* * *

Queens again. Another alleyway, another roughed up victim that given the layout of the scene, she suspects they’ll find puncture wounds again. A violent cover to a chemical end.

"You didn't sleep," JT accuses, passing her a cup of Earl Grey. The citrus hits her nose before the steam.

She drinks the tea in place of answering. It burns, but she doesn't feel it. False. It burns, but she doesn't care. False. It burns.

"I didn't either,” JT’s voice remains beside her.

"I'm sorry."

JT takes a long pull of his coffee. “You don't have a parakeet and you don't have a newborn — "

"Don't bring Sunshine into this — "

"That was Bright's excuse." JT tilts his head toward the man leading Gil around like their roles are reversed. Part of her wonders if Bright even realizes he’s doing it.

Dani doesn't need an excuse to give JT. A reason she doesn't feel 100% is sufficient. Hell if she knows what it is, though.

A lie. Partly. Each matchstick into the precinct removes one from herself until the power goes out and there's nothing left to strike. A box, but nothing inside, sitting in the darkness, no way to sleep, no way to light.

She sips more Earl Grey, caffeine traveling from her stomach through her bloodstream. Necessary to be functional for work. Another known part of the reason she can't sleep when she's home. No, not necessary. Dependence.

Dani shakes off the itch of partaking in a dangerous dance. Maybe she'll dial it back. ”Thanks for the tea.”

JT doesn't push, doesn't pry into what she doesn't say. What she's hiding. What she doesn't say. What's she's hiding. What she doesn't understand.

"Bright! For the love of — five minutes! Five minutes of _silence!_ " Gil roars.

"He didn't sleep, either," JT comments.

Dani smirks a little bit. She may not be in the best mood, but her sense of humor’s intact.

* * *

The following days bring additional murders. Unnatural causes. Murders. Overdoses. Murders. There’s conflict in the department regarding releasing cause of death to the media, so they’re all looped into a mandatory, precinct-wide briefing. From Dani’s perspective, it seems to be a moot point because the media’s already reporting the information. The briefing seems more of a waste of time than anything. They’re of better use back at the precinct investigating, but that decision's above her pay grade.

"There's a protest — we need to go around,” JT announces from the driver’s seat on the way. He starts looking for a way to turn around safely. Dani looks out at the crowd from the passenger seat.

Signs painted, drawn, thick letters, colorful accents. _BLACK LIVES MATTER_. _BLACK STUDENTS’ LIVES MATTER_. Chants for justice. Equity.

She'd be there if she wasn't at work. Goes on the weekends when she can. Knows some people are there every day. Sometimes wishes she could be one of them.

She could be.

The badge at her hip signifies a job she loves, a path she's chosen, and she doesn't want to trade one for the other. She should be able to do both.

She can. She is. Lacks the single-track focus of some, but it's no less of a contribution. She chooses a mix that works for her.

Just doesn't lead to much sleep. Weariness weighs at her eyes and deep in her bones, questioning her usefulness. As much as she knows it’s the tiredness talking, she can’t silence the doubt in her head.

Rubbing her thumb back and forth on the side seam of her jeans, she wonders if Gil and JT think the same thing. Whether she might feel any better if they talk about it. Whether sleep would come easier if her thoughts were let loose from the endless loop in her head and into the air. Is that why Bright is so talkative sometimes? Does it help him?

As she turns her head and catches JT still longingly staring back at the crowd in the rearview mirror, she considers whether they all might feel better if they talked about it. They’re all racking up the hours, the seesaw teetering far toward work when life is what matters. _The work will be there_ , Gil always says.

Her badge is important, means the world to her, but she’s not useful if she doesn’t have time to take care of her needs first. They all need the time and space to be able to take care of themselves first.

There are many things more important than work.

 _She_ is important enough.

She is.

The words sound less forced in her head by the time they make it to the briefing. The voice changes, drawn from a confidence deep within — she needs to do something.

* * *

Snapping a hair tie against her wrist breaks through the haze, gives a few more minutes of clarity. _Snap._ The Captain goes on. _Snap_. Dani repeats until her attention is no longer needed at the briefing. Anything to keep her from falling asleep at work, something she swore she’d never do. She expects better of herself.

"I'll ride back with Gil," Dani says as they split up. Bright moves to follow them, but Gil tilts his head like he should go with JT. Thankfully, he listens.

"The personal hours you keep reminding us about?” Dani provides minimal lead-in. “Can I take a few?" Gil tells them all the time, take his office, take a walk, take the time if they need it. Reminds them even more often now that Bright's around.

"Everything alright?" Boss Gil and friend Gil tend to sound like the same fatherly person in these sorts of conversations.

She's exhausted? Ready to fall asleep on her feet? Can't focus on anything? Can't do the job, that day, that hour at 2PM? She can't tell her boss any of that — shouldn't need to. Can’t, won’t. Can’t, won’t. Won’t. 'I need to take personal time' should be sufficient. 

Dani’s attention gets pulled back when Gil starts talking again without her saying anything. “Go ahead. Do you want me to drop you somewhere?"

"Home? I'll take the train back in in a couple hours." After she spends some quality time with her bed.

"Sure thing."

The drive to her apartment is typical New York, getting held up as they become part of the ever-present traffic. When he pulls up double-parked in front of her apartment building, he turns his head to her. "Door's open, you know."

"Mmmhmm."

"See you in a bit."

Without changing, Dani tips into the tangle of heavenly fleece strewn on her bed. She’s out on the mussed covers nearly instantly.

* * *

JT looks at Dani over her desk when she comes back in by way of the printer in reception and she nods. She's good. Got a little bit of shuteye. Doesn't need anything. Is refreshed with confidence that maybe today at 6PM might be as good a time as any to talk about what’s materializing as on her mind. “Coffee? My treat,” she offers.

JT stands without any convincing and they make their way downstairs to the corner shop. They wait in a sizable line to order at the counter. There isn't any thought required to their orders, for they always get the same black coffee and tea. Habit that came with the job.

“I think we’re working too much,” she says, getting straight to the point.

“We are.”

“I want to talk to Gil. Wanted to ask if you’d like to join me.” Her thumb brushes the paper she folded into her pants pocket. “I have the stats — it’s not a gut thing.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t wanna make a mistake, you know? Small stuff, sure, but big, avoidable stuff?” She shakes her head. “It’s not worth it. And… I need a little bit more time for me, y’know?”

“All that goof-off time,” JT teases, and Dani lightly swats his arm in return. “With a newborn… yeah, I’ve got an idea.”

“I’ve been a little distracted. I’m sorry.” Part of her doesn’t think it’s her fault and another part bears the responsibility of the heavy badge at her waist. “I think talking to Gil will help.”

“You got it.” JT the partner and JT the friend supporting her again. Them supporting each other.

They pick up their orders and make their way back to the precinct. JT even splurges on a toasted bagel with cream cheese he downs before they reenter the building.

* * *

Dani and JT walk into Gil’s office and their boss looks up. “What’s up?” Gil asks, wheeling out from behind his desk. He's attentive as always, and Dani knows all they need to do is speak.

"You know we'd do anything for you, man,” JT says.

Gil nods.

"Is there any way we could get more coverage?" Dani asks. Voicing the request starts to lift the weight from her shoulders, each subsequent word coming a little easier.

"I'll come in — take the hours," Bright jumps in from who knows where. He followed them in?

Dani blindly pushes a hand out in the direction of Bright’s voice. ”That's not what we mean. Another person, or — "

"You've got _me_ ,” Bright protests. He’s beside them now, edging into the conversation.

"Stop," JT demands, Gil saying the same thing at the same time.

"Finish what you were trying to say, Dani," Gil directs.

"Staggering hours or another person,” Dani says, and the entire request is out.

"I can't add another person to the team."

"I've been here 70 hours this week." Dani unfolds the paper from her pocket. "I'm not complaining. It was sixty last week, and JT racked up similar." She passes the paper to Gil. "Never mind his consulting hours“—she gestures to Bright—“which are — "

"Off the charts." Gil frowns at the paper. "I thought I told you to go home." Gil looks at Bright. Dani knows the ninety on the paper from last week sticks out above all of them, and they would have had this conversation a long time ago if Gil had known.

"I did," Bright defends.

Gil turns the paper into his face. "Your ID tracks when you leave. No way in hell this matches your timesheet. You told me you were done lying."

Bright squirms as if a mouse has found a way into his suit pants.

"We'll talk about swing or cross-training," Gil tells Dani and JT.

"I can cover it," Bright insists. She's perturbed he's looking out for himself instead of the rest of the team, but she doubts he even realizes. It's not a free pass, but it's not an argument she wants to get into this evening.

"Not happening." Gil glares at him. "You're already over your weekly allotment this week."

"So are they!" Bright protests, hands flying in front of him.

"You're _all_ going home." Gil puts his foot down.

But Bright doesn’t take that as final either. “There's a — "

" _Now_." The crease in Gil’s brow dares him to protest further. Dani learned not to challenge that a long time ago. She doubts Bright ever will.

"Thanks, boss," JT says, breaking up the staredown.

"We'll talk about options for long term arrangements tomorrow when we're fresh,” Gil says and gestures to the door. They take that as their cue to leave his office.

Dani fights the urge to mention she just came back in — she doesn't need to go home yet. It's an inconvenience she made the trip back, sure, but counter to the point they just raised. She knows something she can still do downtown anyway. Her badge takes a break tucked away in her car, and she heads out on foot. Street medicine.

The protest is just as lively in the nighttime hours. She picks up a stray sign left behind by someone else and launches it over her head. A person next to her chatters about the turnout they've seen today raising awareness of intersectional equity in education and the issues they’ll cover in following weeks. Folks on the other side share slices of pizza, talking and refueling to stay out later. It's all so... homey. A typical day in the life.

A small glimpse of something she enjoys doing in her free time. Of her life outside the walls of the precinct. As tired as she is, it’s invigorating.

Taking in the energy of the crowd, she smiles a little and work's hold on her chest unwinds. She silences her phone, content to remain in the moment chanting for change.

* * *

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> there were multiple critiques left on this work from anonymous guest accounts. the critique has been noted. i have deleted the comments, for i do not find ao3 to be a constructive forum for discussion of improvement feedback. i am open to discussing feedback on a work on discord.


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